Most of my childhood friends received the standard information about Santa— how he gets into houses without a chimney (magic), what happens if you aren’t a good boy or girl (coal) and how he covers so much ground in a single night (a combination of superhuman speed and the ability to make time stand still). But as far as I know, I was the only kid in the neighborhood who received this intel from parents: if a child sees Santa in their house doing his job, he will spit chewing tobacco in their eyes.
I found it reasonable that Santa would chew tobacco. My dad and many of the men I knew did. Why wouldn’t Santa?
But spitting it into the eyes of children who just wanted to get a glimpse of the jolly old man did seem out of the ordinary.
If I did something my dad didn’t like, he would usually just spank me. Although I wouldn’t have liked it coming from Santa any more than I wanted it coming from my dad, a spanking felt more in line with the way of the world than getting an eye full of Levi Garrett.
When I was older, I learned the real truth about Santa, which is, of course, that he doesn’t typically spit chaw into children’s eyes. But where did the story come from, and why did other children not know about it?
Was it a strategy Santa employed at some time in the past to deter kids from watching him work? Even with his speed and ability to manipulate time, it would take him too long to interact with every child who stayed awake to see him. His social calendar is jam-packed from Thanksgiving to Festivus at malls and parades. Christmas is for work.
Maybe he’s constantly testing diversion strategies, and this was one OSHA had to step in and quickly put their feet down on. Perhaps my parents hadn’t received the update that the practice had been discontinued.
Another possibility is that the Santa-spitting-tobacco-in-kids’-eyes story was an isolated incident that was passed on through the rumor mill as standard practice.
I can imagine a situation where Santa, when startled, could accidentally swallow his Skoal and cough it up on anyone in sight. Although I don’t recommend it, I have chewed tobacco before. It can do wild things if it goes down the wrong pipe.
It could also very well be the case that Saint Nicholas was once a mean old man whose “my way or the highway” worldview and righteous indignation caused him to do any manner of improper things. There was that purported incident with Arius that would lend credence to this.
Regardless, either the story isn’t true, or Santa has softened his approach. This is cause for celebration and reflection.
Santa is, after all, a child of God. Like all children of God, he has the capacity to do significant damage. Maybe he believed the threat of physical harm was a helpful and appropriate way to compel a child (or spouse or neighbor or country) to do the right thing. Maybe fear caused him to do it. Perhaps he once believed this was the way of God.
But children of God, even adult ones, also have the capacity to grow and learn. Once you know better, you do better, right? Santa is a wise old cookie, and it seems he has learned that although violence may be easy, it never produces the outcome we want.
It’s also possible that Santa simply gave up chewing tobacco on advisement from his doctor, which I suppose is also an act of grace we can all be thankful for.
Senior Editor at Good Faith Media.